Ten Years
by Anawey
Summary: My friend's school recently did 'Les Mis', and I've wondered what happened to Valjean and Cosette in those ten years that the play skips. This is my take on what happened to them.


Ten Years

A friend of mine was recently in the play, Les Miserables. Since then, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it, and I always wondered, what happened to Cosette and Valjean in those ten years they skipped? So, I decided I'd write about that. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer; I don't own this play, but I'm pretty sure the guy who does is dead...

Valjean and Cosette  
XxX

Cosette stared up in wonder at the man who'd just taken her from the Thernardiers. Who was he? He was nice, though; he held her hand gently, and walked at a pace easy for her six-year-old legs to keep up with, and every now and then, he would turn back to look at her, and smile fondly. His eyes were a warm, friendly silver, and his dark hair had a single, almost grandfather-like strand of grey running through it. And his voice was soft, not fierce and loud like the innkeeper's or his wife's. He spoke gently to her, in a clam, welcoming tone. And when she saw the large, inviting house that she would be living in, she knew she'd come at last to her castle. She felt at once at home, safe in the home of this man, who told her to call him simply 'Papa', for he had promised to raise her as his own.

Valjean smiled as Cosette walked into her room, her little eyes wide with wonder. She turned full circle, her eyes roving around the room; the fireplace, the bed, the window and its seat, the curtains of soft silk. She squeaked, and jumped into Valjean's arms, hugging him tightly. Valjean laughed.

"I see you like your room," he commented with a smile. Cosette nodded enthusiastically. Valjean glanced at a clock on the wall. It was nearly time for supper. "Come Cosette," he said, setting her gently down and taking her hand. "It is time to eat." Cosette grinned and followed him down the stairs to the dinning room.

The dinning room was spacious, and beautiful. Not really decorative -- though there were small, intricate designs in the corners and on the ceiling. The table was of a deep, dark wood, elegant, but simple; the chairs were made of the same dark wood, the cushions of a soft fabric -- Cosette wasn't sure what it was.

There was so much food compared to what Cosette was used to. She was amazed. There was meats, and soft cheese, and Valjean let her eat her fill of whatever she wanted. He didn't correct her if she didn't use proper manners; he just smiled at her in understanding. He ate slowly, watching her with a knowing glint in his eyes.

"You'll need new clothes," Valjean observed as he led her to her room later that night. "What kind of father would I be if I let you run around in the same dress every day when I have plenty to spare for you?" He smiled softly at her, and helped her change into her nightgown. Tucking her into bed, he gently kissed her blond curls. "Good night, Cosette, my dear."

"Good night," Cosette whispered sleepily, "Papa." Valjean smiled as he blew out the candle and left. He closed her door softly, the gentle click muffled by the peacefulness of the night.

...

In the morning, Cosette and Valjean ate together. Then, Valjean took her into town to buy her new dresses.

"It suits her," Valjean commented, watching Cosette admire herself in a blue dress in a mirror in the small shop. "Brings out her eyes."

"It does, M'sieur," the shop owner agreed.

"How much for it?" Valjean asked, already reaching for the francs in his pocket.

"Three francs, M'seiur," the shop-keep replied. Valjean payed the man, and called to Cosette, leading her off to another store. As they walked, the two passed an inspector attempting to break up a street brawl. The inspector wasn't fairing very well.

Valjean crossed to the other side of the street, Cosette in tow.

"I want you to stay here," he said firmly, holding her shoulder and looking into her eyes. "Promise me, Cosette."

"I promise, Papa," Cosette said softly, her eyes darting from Valjean to the fight on the other side of the street. Valjean nodded.

"Good girl." He ran across the street to help the inspector.

The fight was rough. There were at least four people involved, and the inspector was hard put to settle things down. Valjean jumped into the fight, pulling the people apart, and handing them off for the crowd to hold back as he went to the inspector. He pulled the man up to his feet, only letting go once he was certain the inspector was steady.

"I thank you, m'sieur, for your aid," the inspector smiled, turning to look at the man who'd helped him.

Valjean's heart stopped. Javert! His eyes flickered across the street to Cosette, sitting by the curb, watching him. What if Javert found out she had some connection to him? He had to get out of here, had to get her away, had to keep Javert from hurting her to get information on him!

_Easy, man, steady. Don't give yourself away, _Valjean tried to discretely calm his racing heart, and rattled nerves. Javert didn't seem to recognize him.

"And you are welcome, m'sieur inspector," Valjean said, clearing his throat to get rid of the slight squeak in his voice. "But, I must be going, as I've a child to tend to. Good day."

"Good day." Javert bowed in response to Valjean's quick nod, and watched as the man who'd helped him crossed the street, and left with a young girl. "I wonder," he mused. "24601 _had _said something about a child needing care... could it really be?" But how had he managed to get all the way to Paris from Montfermiel, on foot and with a child? Javert himself had had to take a coach to get here. On the other hand, it _had _been months since he'd seen Javert, and would the man really be foolish enough to stay in France?

...

Valjean led Cosette home. They'd managed to get five dresses for her, and new shoes, and bonnets, before the incident with Javert. Cosette didn't know what had made her papa so nervous, but whatever it was, it must have been serious.

"Who was that man, Papa?" she asked as they walked through the door of their home.

"His name is inspector Javert," Valjean explained. "I do not want you talking to him, Cosette. He is not safe for you to talk to."

"Why not, Papa?" Valjean sighed.

"Do not concern yourself with the matter," he said dismissively. "Only, it is a matter of your safety, my dear. I do not wish to lose you, my sweet Cosette." He smiled at her, cupping her face in his hand. "Go and play, dear. I'll call you for lunch."

As soon as Cosette left, Valjean blockaded himself in his study, dropping tiredly into his chair. It was the first time in years he'd felt his age. He was forty three years old, now, and his hard life was beginning to catch up to him. He ran his hands through his hair. In the past three years, it had started to turn from dark brown to grey. A few strands peppered his forehead, and peeked out from the rest around his temples, which he massaged, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

"I'm too old for this," he groaned, covering his face with his hands. Valjean sighed.

XxX  
And that's the first chapter. It'll probably be a while til the next one, cause of my really long Avatar story 'Treason'. Well, it's not long yet, but it will be. Anyway, review, please!


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